Safe And Sound
by Canaryinthemine
Summary: Lydia's found a new safety in lies and a boy with haunted eyes. Her worlds crashing down, his is already rubble. Everything they know is burning, and she just wants to watch the lights. Lydia/Isaac
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf or Safe And Sound.

Lydia's found a new safety in lies and a boy with haunted eyes. Her worlds crashing down, his is already rubble. Everything they know is burning, and she just wants to watch the lights. Lydia/Isaac

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...  
_  
I remember you said, "Don't leave me here alone." But all that's dead and gone and passed tonight._

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...

"Jackson! Jackson _please!_" Lydia sobbed, chasing the boy she loved. _**This**_ wasn't how it was supposed to be. True love was supposed to conquer all. That's what _**they'd**_ told her. If she loved him enough he'd be okay. Well she _did_ love him, so much it hurt, and he was just walking away. Gone forever when she'd just gotten him back. "**JACKSON STOP**!"

The boy turned, staring her down. "What?" He asked, his voice calm. Like what had just happened was just a far away dream. A nightmare. Lydia shivered at the cold look in his eyes. This _wasn't_ supposed to happen.

Biting her lip to stop its shaking, she took a weak step forward. It felt like her legs were going to give out. Collapse underneath her and leave her sobbing on the floor. He was going to _leave_ her. "Where are you going?" She asked, tears stinging the backs of her eyes. It was _pathetic_ how much she loved him. How much she'd sacrifice for him. How much she'd done for him.

Jackson took a menacing step forward, his handsome face pinched into a sneer. "Away from you." He spat and Lydia flinched. His words were a blow. _Hateful_. His eyes were cold as ice as he glared down at her. _Cruel_. "Before you take something else away from me."

Lydia recoiled, steeping back fast. "W-what?" She asked, shocked. Surely he didn't mean? "You were _**killing**_ people, Jackson." She told him, shaking her head. He wanted to be that **thing?** That **monster?** Impossible. "They were going to kill _you_." She'd saved him. He was still a werewolf, wasn't that enough? Wasn't anything ever enough?

Jackson laughed, a short harsh sound that made her cringe. "They _couldn't_ kill me." He told her, his eyes flashing as he took another step forward. She took one backwards, her back colliding with the tin wall. "I was _stronger_ than them." Her legs were shaking, so ready to give out as she placed her hands flat behind her. Jackson closed in. _"Do you still love me Lydia?_" He mocked, his fingers tracing down her face. His voice was sickly sweet, like rotting flesh.

Lydia flinched, screwing her eyes closed. This wasn't happening. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. Jackson's new claws traced her cheek bone, smearing a tear across her pale skin.

Then he was gone, leaving her to finally collapse onto the dirty floor.

"Find a new love."

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...

That had been hours ago. When it was still night and she could hide her tears in the darkness it provided. Now the early morning sun peaked through the trees across the edge of the woods and it left her feeling vulnerable. _Exposed_. The shadows of the pines reached like skeletal fingers, almost touching her but not quite. Her tears had dried long ago, but the pain in her chest was still there. Hanging heavy were her heart had once been.

She heard the twig snap and knew that he did it on purpose. A warning of his arrival. He _wanted_ her to know he was there. The little werewolf that Allison had stabbed so brutally. He'd changed clothing, but he still looked beaten down. She was positive she looked worse. She _knew_ she was a wreck, she didn't care. There was no reason to care.

He sat beside her on the grass, his long legs stretched out beside hers. He was tall, she noted, her feet coming even with just the spot under his knees. Much taller than her. His jeans were dirty. He'd only changed his shirt. A spot of blood on the knee. He turned to her, his face drawn. He looked tired, sad. There was something haunted in the depths of his murky light eyes. Something broken. "Maybe true love's kiss is an unrequited thing." He said quietly, looking away from her and back to the tree line behind her house. His profile was thrown in a mix of shadow and light, all sharp lines and soft edges.

Lydia frowned at his words, shaking her head. Her thoughts felt heavy, distorted. Like her brain was filled with cotton. _"What?"_ She asked, her brow furrowed as she looked down to her feet. When had she lost her shoes? Were they still at the warehouse? Stiles' car? It was unimportant she knew, but she was stuck. Focusing on something menial to block out the rest. **Jackson**. To block out Jackson who broke her heart so ruthlessly.

Isaac kept his eyes on woods and Lydia wondered how far he could see. Could he see the burnt down Hale house through the forest? A rabbit jumping around? The word _'Croatoan'_ she'd carved into the third oak tree to the left when she was thirteen during her parent's divorce and wanted nothing more than to disappear? She wanted to disappear again. "Think about it." He said, his voice low. He spoke quietly. _Made_ her listen closely. Lydia wondered if he ever raised his voice. He seemed like the type for quiet violence. "The daring prince," He started, plucking a blade of grass from his side. He twirled it between his fingers, "or in our case fearless prin_cess_, has risked her life for her prince, _she's_ put everything on the line for _him_. Her crown, her livelihood. She fights a _dragon_ and all other dangers untold, for him. _She loves_ him, but _he doesn't even know _her. And she doesn't really know _him_." He turned to her, a smirk curved on his lips. "Kind of one sided."

Lydia took the grass from his fingers, childishly not wanting him to have any of _her_ grass. Not while he was spewing such nonsense. "That doesn't make any sense." She told him, tearing the grass in half and scattering the two pieces. They were hers, not his. And this mess he was talking was insanity of the worst kind. "They're just _supposed_ to love eachother." Didn't he know? Snow White loved the Prince, Barbie loved Ken, Jack loved Rose! They didn't need reasons. They just _did!_

Isaac smiled softly at her childlike logic. And she was the smartest girl in school? She was naïve. "Life has a lot of 'supposed tos' Lydia." He told her, plucking another blade of grass. But of course she was naïve. She was Lydia Martin. Everything worked out for her. Except this. "They can't all work out."

Lydia frowned, taking his new piece of grass away. "You're bitter." She told him, keeping this blade between her fingers. She tied a knot in it, trying to ignore his words. They didn't make sense. They just _didn't_.

Isaac shrugged, "I'm honest." He replied, reaching forward to take another piece of grass.

Lydia slapped his hand and he let her. "Cynical." She spat.

"Realistic." He responded.

Finally she sighed, shaking her head. "It wasn't _supposed_ to end like this, you know?" And there were those two words again. _**Supposed to**_. She looked up at him with those big green eyes, trying to make him understand. Somebody had to. It couldn't be only her in this boat of true love. "We were supposed to live happily ever after." She'd always imagined them together. Jackson had been her everything. She'd thought she was his too. "Go to prom together." It all sounded so weak to her ears now. _Prom_. Who cared about _prom?_ Frilly dresses and plastic crowns. There were _werewolves_ running around and Jackson didn't love her like she loved him. Prom was just some show put on to make stupid kids feel better about endless school hours and the monotony of high school life. Now who was the bitter one?

Isaac took the grass from her, tying his own knot in it. "Maybe that's not the end of your story." He spoke, opening his hand to let her take it away. "Not everyone has a happily ever after." She did, easily adding a third knot to the loop. They were both quiet for a long time.

"I heard wolves earlier." She told him, finally looking back up to him. She'd thought she'd heard hundreds. Or maybe just two. Maybe none at all. Who knew anymore? "They were howling." She muttered, twirling the knotted grass between her fingers.

Isaac sighed, laying down in the grass and watching the sky brighten. "Don't worry about that." He told her, crossing his arms behind his head. She didn't need to know about the Alpha Pack. It was too much for her. Derek had sent him to scent the woods for them when he'd spotted her, sitting there at the edge of the woods. Motionless like a broken doll. She'd smelled _broken_. He knew why. They'd all heard. How could they not? Sound traveled far to werewolf hearing. Only the humans didn't know. Scott would tell them though, soon enough everyone would know that Jackson had left Lydia because she'd rescued him from himself when no else could. Or would.

They _should_ have killed him. There was a reason he turned into the kanima. Not just his parents. Because he was an ass. A bad person to the very core.

He didn't stiffen when he felt Lydia lay her head on his chest, her fingers gripping his shirt for dear life. "Don't leave me here alone." She asked quietly, her voice soft. Isaac didn't respond.

.

..

...

_I remember you said, "Don't leave me here alone." But all that's dead and gone and passed tonight._


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf.

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_Don't you dare look out your window darling, everything's on fire  
The war outside our door keeps raging on._

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Lydia sank lower in the padded lawn chair, wrapping her hands around her cup of hot tea. Her green eyes watched the gauzy fabric that floated in her pool, drifting between the water jets and turning this way and that like a fine mist. The sun reflected prettily on the rhinestone details, sending shining wine colored beams across the pool bottom. She raised her steaming cup of Earl Grey to her mouth, blowing softly before taking a slow sip. She didn't greet him as he slid into the chair next to hers.

"Prom dress?" He asked, nodding towards the long fabric that floated gently in her pool. He frowned as a jet finally caught it, tugging it to the blue depths. He saw the glitter of jewelry in the shallow end, the dress like a mermaid's tail in the false current the pool created. Lydia lifted a remote, a light turning on in the pool. It silhouetted the dress and caused the jewels on the bodice to sparkle like scales. It flowed like smoke through the depths, turning this way and that.

"Yup." Lydia popped, bringing her tea up to her mouth and inhaling. She watched the three thousand dollar custom made dress meet its watery grave. She'd had it since last year, hanging in a satin dust bag. It was _the_ prom dress. Not too gauzy, not too svelte. Wine silk and swavorski, cut perfectly to flatter her shape, dyed the perfect color to match her tones. Beautiful dress. Truly _beautiful_ dress.

She'd had a tie dyed to match. For _Jackson_.

She'd cut that up .

Taking another sip of her tea, Lydia tucked her barefeet underneath her. She wiggled her toes. "I kept the shoes." She said, enjoying the heat of the tea through the long sleeves of her sweater. It dwarfed her, coming down to her knees and a good three inches over the tips of her hands. It was an _awful_ mustard yellow. The _**ugliest**_ thing she owned really. She didn't even know where she'd gotten it. Maybe something horrible her Grandmother had knit her for her birthday or Christmas. The woman had no clue to her measurements, thinking her taller and tanner. It really was a _bad_ thing and she had no clue as to why she'd put it on that afternoon. _No fucking clue_.

Isaac frowned at it, wrinkling his nose. "This what you did instead of going to school today?" He asked, picking up the remnants of a silk tie. Good weight silk too. He assumed it matched the dead dress. He also assumed it was for Jackson. Jackson, who had _swaggered_ up and down the halls like he was a King. Jackson who was going to have a rude awakening come pack time. Jackson wasn't an Alpha. He was barely a Beta. He was younger than them, _weaker_ than them. He wasn't the scary Kanima anymore. Now he was just a loose wolf who needed his ass kicked.

Lydia met the end of her teacup with a frown, setting it on the table in front of her. She had a whole pot made inside. Still warm probably. Maybe she could convince Isaac to make it for her. _Five sugars and two milk_. Her green eyes slid over to him. He was watching her dress drown with a tired look on his face, slumped down low in his chair with his chin placed in his palm. She let her teacup grow cold, remembering his question. "_I _thought it was pretty productive." She muttered, staring down at her pink painted porcelain teacup. It had white wisteria on it and a saucer to match. Part of a heirloom pattern set. She should have used a bigger cup. _Maybe a Thermos._ Sighing heavily, she rested her head on the back of the chair and turned it to watch his profile. He had a good bone structure, outlined by the sun behind him. Good nose, good cheekbones. He looked oddly _delicate_, like he was made of porcelain too. Like the too realistic dolls her grandmother kept. He looked like bone China, but Lydia knew he wasn't made of it. She'd seen the beating he took. Heard about others he'd received at his own Father's hands. But he was a werewolf now. No one could truly hurt him. At least not _**physically**_.

Idly, she wondered how vulnerable his _mind_ was. His body may have strengthened but she doubted he was impenetrable to mental trauma. She wondered just how hard it would be to get him to break._ To snap_.** She'd snapped**. She'd snapped easily. Quickly. She wondered if he'd last any longer. "Anything interesting happen?" She asked, suddenly bored of her train of thought. At least the tea had given her something to do. She sighed again.

Isaac shrugged his shoulders, turning to look at her. She'd slept while he'd been at school, the haggard rings under her eyes paled to mere fingerprint smudges. Easily covered by her makeup. It was strange to see. Her hair and makeup done perfectly but her clothing an old, ugly, ratty, and stretched out puke yellow sweater. But then again he imagined Lydia didn't check the mail without mascara. She was too high maintenance. He j _knew_ it was a well placed mask. He could practically _smell_ the crazy on her. Like a dog that wasn't getting better. She was only getting worse. "Chemistry quiz, pep rally," he shrugged his shoulders, adding as an after thought: "Werewolves pretending to be normal students and _not_ face eating monsters. Everyday stuff."

Lydia sniffed and he accepted it as a laugh, her green eyes rolling upwards and her head slowly following. It exposed her long pale neck, the pulse beating slowly in her throat. He noted it'd be so _easy_ to tear it out with his sharp teeth. There'd be pressure then the skin would break, giving way with a **'pop'**. She smelled like bergamont and downers, a heavy mix she masked with some floral perfume. The tea smelled familiar, sweet with milk and honey. Sugar. He reclined in his chair, kicking his feet up to the chair across from him and looking up to the porch roof. It was painted a pale, pale blue. A haint blue like they used to do a long time ago. To make any ghost fly _up_ instead of _in_. He wondered if they'd painted it for that reason or if it was simply to match the pool.

"You okay to travel?" He asked suddenly, looking from the ceiling to her. Lydia screwed her face up in distaste. Isaac ignored it. "They said they need to see you. I'm playing errand boy." He'd gotten a text from Derek during last period, asking him to bring Lydia to the Hale house. They needed to talk to her and he wasn't in a position to say no. The Alpha had asked Erica to do it before him, but she'd responded that _Isaac_ was the one sporting the redhead's scent. Derek hadn't even questioned.

Lydia groaned, rolling her eyes. "I didn't plan on putting _pants_ on today." She muttered to herself. She just wanted to sit on the porch, watch her dream-turned-nightmare dress drown, and drink enough tea to bleed bergamont. But here comes the downer dogs to ruin it all. Didn't they have more important things to do? Like flea baths and bone burying. Chasing squirrels. Pissing on trees.

Isaac smirked, shrugging his shoulders and raising his eyebrows in tandem. "I won't _make_ you." He told her, eying her bare legs. All he could see were her calves, tucked under her and only showing the outer half. He chuckled, shaking his head. She was being indulgent and a little bit inappropriate. "But I'd recommended a pair of panties at least."

Lydia shrugged, flipping her hair off her shoulders as she seamlessly sat up. "I _don't_ wear any." She told him smoothly, knowing it was a lie. She had them on right now. A pair of white lace boy shorts. The only time she went camando was in skinny jeans and dresses, but with dresses she always had a slip on so that counted. She wondered if he could tell she was lying.

Isaac couldn't. She lied so smoothly like she was just breathing. There was no catch in her pulse, no scent change. He had to wonder if she really _was_ bare under that tacky sweater. He had to admit that it was a very appealing thought. The idea that underneath that sweater was the girl of every Beacon high school boy's dream, _naked_. It was a good thought. He smirked, "Must be _chilly_." He told her, raising a brow.

Lydia waved her hand dismissively, the glitter on her manicured nails catching the sunlight like stars. "I don't mind the cold." She told him, playing along. She knew she was playing with fire, but it was too fun to stop. She licked her dry lips, a slow smile forming on her mouth. Isaac watched her pink tongue dart out, tracing her full pout. It didn't smear her dark lipstick and he wondered if she practiced it in the mirror. When she wasn't wearing panties. Sighing she pushed up from the table, looping her finger through her teacup.

She'd go to the Hale house for the puppy dog pow-wow. She had nothing else to do. Except...

"Isaac?" Lydia stopped, turning and looking at him over her shoulder. He'd been watching her walk, his eyes dark as he looked up at her. She smirked lifting the hem of her sweater and showing her ass, the white lace boy short panties. "It does get cold."She walked inside to the sound of Isaac

laughing.

.

...

They walked through the woods. Isaac said it was easier. Lydia said that he was a shitty liar. She'd gone up to her room and changed into more _appropriate_ clothing, coral skinny jeans and a cream off the shoulders top. Isaac could see the scars the attack had left on the pale skin of her shoulder. He could also see, from his vantage point behind her, that she had no panty line. She'd done it on purpose he was sure.

Lydia looked up at the burnt down Hale home with almost an air of boredom. She was _tired_ of this old song and dance. Wasn't there something else going on? She wished an earthquake would hit or some local bigshot would die horribly so that they'd all have something new to talk about. Maybe a fire in the supermarket. Walking up the surprisingly put together stairs she entertained the thought of arson, tucking her hands in her back pockets._ If Allison's aunt could do it.._.

Peter Hale opened the door and she didn't even blink. She was numb, bored. **Crazy**. She breezed by him without a glance, taking a left and sitting on the dirty couch. It was going to ruin her pants. She just knew it. She didn't like them much anyway. She could buy new pants. Maybe she'd go to Macy's after this. Buy something to match the prom heels she'd kept. Something..._strappy_. She liked strappy. Jackson hated strappy.

Erica was there, Boyd beside her. Derek was in the corner with some big old musty book (it matched the big old musty house) and Scott was leaning up against the wall beside him. Looking paranoid. She wondered when she'd learned these people's names. They weren't really important to her. They didnt matter in her life. Leaning her elbow on the soot coated armrest she considered taking up smoking, twirling her hair around her free fingers. Those long brown cigarettes or the sweetly scented skinny ciggarillos the pot heads smoked. The ones with the pale plastic filters. Cigarettes would curb her appetite. Jackson _hated_ them. She liked the smell of the brown ones. They smelled off. _**Different**_. She wondered if the guy at the gas station that talked to her boobs would sell them to her. She popped her gum. Loudly.

"Why am I even here?" She asked loudly, rolling her eyes. These guys were boring. Shouldn't they be doing werewolf stuff? Could someone please crash through a wall? Start growling? Who did she have to _raise from the dead_ to get a little entertainment?

Peter Hale walked in and she finally noticed his pirate facial hair. She actually leaned away from it, even though he was all the way across the room. It was..._not okay_. She should have left him in the ground. "Do you mean in life? The cosmic sense? Or here? In this place, in this time?" He asked, leaning against the wall. Lydia rolled her eyes. _Lame_.

Derek walked forward with his big old book, breaking the flow before Lydia could even form a sharp response. "We're here to talk about Jackson." He said dramatically and everyone perked up. Everyone but the redhead.

Lydia groaned, crossing her arms and slumping down on the couch. "Jackson, Jackson, _Jackson_." She whined, rolling her eyes. "Can't we talk about something else?" She asked, looking across the room for some support. She got none. Of course not. Don't piss of the big bad Alpha. "Like roaming bands of stray cats taking over the tri-state area?"

Scott looked shocked, a frown forming on his face. He looked genuinely worried. "Is...is that _happening?"_ He asked, looking around the room. Isaac shook his head, sitting down on the couch next to Lydia. Really?

The red head threw her arm out, raising her brows. "Maybe!" She said loudly, "How would we even know if all we do is talk about _**Jackson!"**_

Derek rolled his eyes, dropping the book to the floor. It was all on Peter's laptop anyway. "Fine. The Alpha pack." He told the children, shooting Lydia a glare. If she said anything... She didn't, smirking and leaning back in the couch. Isaac grinned beside her, shaking his head. Children. They were all children. Childish brats. He sighed. "There's a pack of Alphas coming to take my spot." He told them, turning to pace. "They've left their mark already."

"Did they pee on your door?" Lydia asked sarcastically, Isaac elbowed her sharply making her _"Oof_." And glare at him. He pressed his finger to his lips in the universal sign of shh, smirking. She elbowed him back, right in the ribs.

Derek ignodre the question, continuing his pacing. "They attacked Erica and Boyd this morning. They let them leave though, but not without a warning." He waved his hand and Boyd stood, raising the back of his shirt. A weird triangular pattern was carved into the boy's massive back, perfectly. Erica lifted the stomach of hers. Her pattern was not as perfect. Lydia knew she had _fought_. "This is their mark." Derek said, letting his pack set down. Lydia felt Isaac stiffen beside her, his grip on the back of the couch causing the wood to creak.

Derek powered onward. "I don't know what tactics they'll use." He said darkly, shrugging his shoulders. "There's four of them. I don't know if they'll try to divide you between them. I don't know if they'll kill eachother to get to you." He growled slightly and Lydia raised her brows. "I don't know _anything_ about them."

Everyone looked to Peter, the oldest of the group. He raised his hands in retreat, stepping back to the foyer. "I was never a _pack_ Alpha." He told them, waving his hands. "They never came after me."

Derek rolled his eyes, turning them towards Lydia. The girl met his glare, fearless. _Disrespectful_. "I'm **really** grateful you brought that back." He snarled, Lydia just grinned. Derek fell serious suddenly, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Which is why I've brought you here." He said slowly, causing Lydia to sit up a little straighter. "I don't know how you did it...and I don't know how _they'll_ react to that."

Lydia's mouth curled down like she'd tasted something bitter, her brows furrowed. "So even though I'm not some _creature_...they'll still be coming after me?" She asked, bringing a leg up and under her. She was confused. From what she'd been told she was immune, a pack of Alpha werewolves should want nothing to do with her. Hadn't they heard? She'd been running around _curing_ people. Ruining their _scaley murder sessions_. They really should just steer clear of her and her _**cure love**_.

Everyone else fucking was.

Derek didn't have an answer for her. "I just want everyone to be on their toes." He proclaimed, leaning and picking his ancient book back up. "They'll attack when we aren't expecting it. Probably one by one." He crossed his arms, his big hands holding the book easily. "If they get you alone they'll take you or kill you."

The word caused a wave of discomfort to slither through the group, causing Lydia to fidget. Erica however, didn't fidget.

She snapped.

_**"Great!"**_ The blonde suddenly bolted up, throwing her arms into the air. She looked wild, tired. **Done**. "First the Argents are _torturing_ me. Then the _werewolves_ are." She choked on a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "I'm sixteen years old." She spat, collapsing down into the seat. It was too much. All too much. Lydia frowned, "I can't even drive!" Erica pouted, crossing her arms.

The redhead frowned. How the hell did they switch from **torture** to _driver's ed_? "I'll teach you." Lydia offered, smacking her gum. She was bored. This was boring. The same story over and over again. There was always _something_ after them. They were quite a hot topic. Everyone wanted there own rag tag werewolf weirdo. Seemed they were the new Chihuahua. She pushed up from the couch, dusting her ass off. "Got nothin' better to do." She shrugged.

Erica looked shocked, really everyone did. "W-what?" She stammered, her brow furrowed. Lydia Martin did _not_ offer to teach people how to drive. Unless she wanted something. Maybe she had a chauffeur's hat in her trunk. Erica didn't care. She wanted to learn."Really?" She asked, the shock gradually wearing off. She'd wear the goddamn hat if it mean she'd learn to drive. She'd happily Drive Miss Crazy. No one else was going to teach her.

Lydia was already headed for the door, not a backwards glance as she wrapped her perfect hair around her manicured finger. _"Mmmhm_." She said, opening the door. She gave that patented over her shoulder smirk that all the boys loved. "Lets go now." She said, "You can drive me to the store."

Erica mentally readied herself, to put on the Chauffeur cap for Lydia. She shot a look to the pack behind her, her Alpha merely shrugged. No one really knew. Scott just looked confused. Isaac wondered what Lydia wanted from Erica. "Okay." She said, following the girl out.

Lydia was right. The creeper at the gas station did let her buy her long brown cigarettes. And a pretty lilac lighter too.

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...

An: So, I'm trying to get my angst out with this story. A gritty reboot kinda thing. I hope I don't piss anyone off. I'm kind of...playing with the characters here so I can keep them in character in my other fic, Of Love and Insanity. I know, excuses, excuses. Whatever. I hope you enjoy it anyway!


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